


Push Button Phone

by Rayvynheart



Series: Kodachrome Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:07:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayvynheart/pseuds/Rayvynheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean needs. So very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push Button Phone

Dean checks into the room by himself. It’s like a thousand other crappy motel rooms he’s stayed in over the years. Stained and faded carpet, particle board furniture with a fake wood laminate to give the illusion of luxury, an old-timey corded phone.

At least this phone has push buttons instead of a rotary dial. It always takes forever to place a call on a rotary-dial phone.

Sam is at home. They both know he needs the rest, and this is supposed to be a routine salt and burn. Dean can handle it, and if not, both Winchesters knew a certain angel is only a phone call away.

 _‘Cas’_ thinks Dean.

Sometimes that’s all he thinks. Just that name.

For Dean, there’s so much wrapped up in those three letters. He’s said the name a hundred ways over the six years since he first met the angel. In anger, in petition, in desperation. Even once or twice in joy.

There are times when Dean may have moaned the name, too. Times in the shower, or late night bunker times, always behind locked doors of course. Dean tries to be careful when he touches himself with the image of his friend in mind. Dean tries to picture Cas falling apart underneath his hands. The angel is so beautiful and Dean suspects he would only be more resplendent in the throes of passion. That image alone is usually enough to push Dean over the edge.

He doesn’t think Cas can hear prayers anymore, but at the moment of completion, when Dean can’t help the Cas-shaped groan that rips out between his teeth, he recognizes reverence in his tone. If an angel was going to pick up an errant thought or word or prayer, he’d probably pick the one that sounded most needful.

And Dean needs. He aches and he longs. He can no longer remember a time before he felt this yearning need. It burns him from the inside out.

Even now, just thinking about Cas builds a fire in his gut that licks up his spine. He wonders where the angel is and what he’s doing and if he’s alone. He wonders if Cas ever thinks of him. He wonders if Cas would come to the ratty motel if Dean asked him to. The thought of the man occupying the same space as Dean creates a thirst in him he can’t imagine slaking at any place but Cas’ mouth.

“Dammit, Cas.” Dean says to the empty room, to no one in particular.

Dean can’t wait anymore. He’s so tired of waiting. He picks up the brown motel phone handset and dials the number he knows by heart.

“Cas, I need you. Where are you?”

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble was inspired by a Kodachrome picture of a phone and a lamp and a nightstand by Tom Graves. I grew up in a motel like this one. I have a very special place in my heart for all the motels featured in Supernatural. I hope you enjoyed this.


End file.
